Borderlines
by alleymills3100
Summary: France had gone to England's house once more, as he sat in the palor he contemplated his feelings for the brit... how much he truely loved him. (rated T for breif mentions of sexual activity. nothing in detail)


I still recall clearly the day I came across the dirty urchin in the forest… I had instantly noticed that he was different from humans, I knew clearly what he was, that the borders between us would make us enemies, but I still could not stop. Even then… at such a tender age I was completely captivated by this blonde boy, and with time that captivity to him has only grown.

He sits across from me never once looking up from his needlework; I sipped coffee in the other seat, his own tea gone untouched. It was so like him to focus on one thing at a time, a time and place for everything he would tell me…. Tea time is not for another hour, but I offered to make him tea with my own coffee, after all, I had invited myself in, I wouldn't make him cater to my selfishness as well. Not for a lack of trying, but the banter would only go so far before I would step back and he would continue what he had originally been doing before my interruption, it had always been this way.

Perhaps knowing him for so long is why we both perfectly understand the boundaries we cannot cross with each other, we know when to stop and pull away, and at the best of times we can see through the other's defenses better than anyone else. That ability, however, in itself is not always a good thing…. It leaves us both vulnerable, and with a friend at the best times and a nemesis at the worst, your weaknesses are better left unknown. It was not all that uncommon for us to hit below the belt if we wanted to bring the other down a notch, banter could either give to comfortable silence or brutal fights against our bond.

My eyes felt heavy, the almost deafeningly loud ticking of that blasted annoying clock was starting to turn into a soothing click in the background, I closed my eyes and tuned out the sound into a pleasant buzz. A hand rested on my shoulder and shook me, a voice gently speaking my name; my eyes fluttered open, staring up into the green depths above me. The poems I could write about those eyes…. So pure and bright, all the pain in the world has befallen him in his life and yet his eyes always seem much purer than my own, I'll never understand how he can bottle all of that emotion into two grass green irises but he manages just fine. Perhaps the emotion in his eyes is why he's so ornery all the time, I make the comment and receive a sharp yank to my ponytail as a response, ah, the playful banter is back.

My back cracks and pops in unpleasant ways and my neck it stiff, the ticking is back, I chance a glance up at the clock and almost choke, it had been hours since I arrived at noon I must have fallen asleep, I was so certain I had only just closed my eyes. "Get yourself gone, you're not spending the night here, frog" my mental train halted I roll my eyes at the easily recognizable tone used, he's expectant, I suppose it can't be helped. I think I'll spoil him a little tonight

Despite my experience in this field my feelings always get in the way when it comes down to it, he says understands why I treat him so gently, why I always whisper his name like a prayer, he understands that I'm France, the nation of love…. And he assumes that I treat everyone like a princess in bed, and although he would much rather a rough shag into a mattress he will accept my caring nature. But even with those kinds of comments his pants and moans are enough to tell me that I please him despite my "unbearably gentle" acts.

He never says my name when we're in his bed and once we have sated ourselves I am always banned to the guest room, we would never simply sleep together; it would be far too intimate. We know our boundaries….. and that's what I hate the most about him.

He know exactly where to cut me off so that I'm not even left with hope, I'm not given the ability to dream for more than a quick round at a friend's house. He thinks he knows me so well, but he knows nothing, my feelings are so far from what he believes…. From what I lead him to believe… he doesn't know that there's nothing in common with my heart and my actions other than showering him with my attentions.

The next morning will be like all of the others, I will cook him breakfast and leave it on the table with a rose and be gone before he ever wakes up, the next time we meet would be at the weekly meeting of nations and we would be "freinemies" once again in the eyes of all of our fellow countries.

This vicious never ending cycle has taken it's toll on me, watching my blonde boy fawn over the foolish American is painful, even more so when the American is obviously not interested…. Anyone can see that, I've held my beautiful green eyes love as he cried over the loss of his former colony more times then I can count but he will never know that I too cry at home because I have lost him to that fool.

I can say that…. But I already know the truth, I never had him in my grasp… as illusive as the clouds, he is visible to me but out of my reach because of those boundaries we have set…. The mold we cast ourselves into that cannot be broken, so fragile and yet so strong, it has become second nature to avoid shattering the crystalline barrier between our friendship and much more…

I stare up at his window from the street, my heart aches for him, a small shift in the lace curtain alerts me that my blonde is watching. I blow him a kiss and a wink, for show, only to watch as the curtains close again, my heart races for a moment at his response, knowing that he is stomping around his home right now cursing me with all his red faced might. I'm on his mind, that knowledge gives me shivers.

Last night I kissed him before we laid together….it was the first time our lips had ever met, and it was magic…. But it broke the barrier, I could feels the gears of his mind turning from under me, he didn't moan as much as normal last night, my feelings created a fracture in our bond. I have not yet decided if that fracture is a good thing or not but it is a change.

I held him more last night as well, my heart raced more than ever, his name was louder…. I broke the mold….. and staring at the house as I climb aboard the bus I realize that just maybe… he realized something last night… I know I did.

Perhaps…. Boundaries aren't such a bad thing…. Because with boundaries… people notice when you break them. I wonder…. did you understand my feelings….Arthur?


End file.
